


A Brief History of Lexa

by green78



Series: Girl, You're Amazing [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Trans Lexa, character backstory, mentions of dysphoria, mentions of transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 16:11:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7229443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green78/pseuds/green78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa tells Clarke her story. Anya tells Clarke some more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Brief History of Lexa

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to all the amazing women over at the MtF subreddit. I wanted to make Lexa's story authentic so I asked if they wouldn't mind telling me theirs. I can't remember the last time I felt so welcome on the internet as I did speaking with these women and I'm so thankful and grateful for their help.  
> Lexa's story was created from bits and pieces of the stories I was told along with a few personal additions of my own. I'll point out/mention some of the specifics in the end notes for those of you who are interested.  
>  **WARNING** for mentions of transphobia and mentions of dysphoria. It's the only reason I put an M rating on this instead of a T.

“So, my sister’s coming to dinner tomorrow night, and I want you to be there.”

Clarke arched an eyebrow up at Lexa from where her head lay on the older woman’s lap. The two were nestled comfortably on the couch, Lexa stroking Clarke’s hair. “You never told me you had a sister,” the younger woman replied.

Lexa arched an eyebrow right back. “You never wondered who the other woman in all my photos was?”

Clarke blushed and bit her lip. “I was too afraid to ask,” she mumbled. “I didn’t know if she was an ex you really missed or something.”

Lexa chuckled. “No, that’s Anya. She saved my life after I came out.” Her smile faded at the memories.

Sensing her sadness, Clarke sat up from Lexa’s lap and repositioned herself so she could embrace her girlfriend. “You’ve never told me the whole story. Are you ok to talk about it?”

Lexa took a deep breath and nodded. Snuggling into Clarke’s side and wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist, Lexa began her story.

“When I used to look in the mirror, my reflection just looked and felt _wrong_ , even when I was a kid. The only time it didn’t was when Anya was playing dress-up with me. She’d ‘force me’ to wear one of her dresses and then parade me around the house. I remember asking her if I could have her dresses when she outgrew them and she said ‘sure,’ but mom gave them away to a neighbour before Anya could give them to me. I remember wishing I could wear Anya’s clothes and not mine and play with her dolls instead of my trucks. But I also knew that boys weren’t supposed to wear dresses and play with dolls, so I just…didn’t.

“When I got to middle school I knew for a fact that I was different but I still wasn’t quite sure how. I know most people in middle school feel like they don’t fit in, but for me there was more to it. I spent many a long, sleepless night wondering what was wrong with me. It was only after I started hanging out with some of the girls in my class that it clicked. I would look at them and think, ‘I’m not supposed to be one of the guys; I’m supposed to be one of you.’

“Now all my sleepless nights were spent imagining my life as a woman: what I’d look like, how I’d wear my hair, what kind of job I’d have, the friends I’d make, and all these other little fantasies. I was still attracted to girls, so that was a little confusing, but I knew that I also _was_ one of them – just not on the outside. I didn’t come across the word ‘transgender’ until I went online to see if there was anyone else out there like me. I was so relieved to find out I wasn’t the only one.

“By the time I was a sophomore in high school I knew that something had to change. Puberty made me feel more and more dysphoric and it was both physically and emotionally traumatising. I thought that if I told my parents, they would accept me and help me transition. Anya had come out as gay to them, and they didn’t mind. So one night over dinner, I told them.” Lexa sighed and held Clarke tighter. “They didn’t take it well.”

Clarke rubbed Lexa’s back as the older woman continued. “They kicked me out. They didn’t even let me get my stuff before literally throwing me out the front door and locking it behind me, screaming all sorts of horrible things. Thankfully I had a habit of leaving my window unlocked, so I snuck back into my room, packed everything I cherished into my backpack, and left.

“I walked the whole ten miles to Anya’s apartment. She was studying at Polis University and lived near campus. I showed up at her door at one in the morning, exhausted. When she opened the door and asked me what was wrong I just broke down in her arms. I told her the whole story and the first thing she said when I finished was, ‘ok, so you’re my sister – I still love you. Our parents can go fuck themselves.’ Then she asked me what my name was – not my ‘girl name,’ but my _name_. I told her it was Lexa. That’s the first time I went by that name and I’ve gone by that name ever since.

“I don’t know how Anya did it so fast, but the next thing I knew, she was my legal guardian instead of our parents. She helped me get my name changed so I was officially Lexa Woods. We decided that things would be easier for me if I dropped out of high school and studied at home; God knows what sort of horrible shit I’d have to put up with if I stayed. So I studied for my SAT and GED and took a part-time job at the local bookstore to pay the bills. Anya found a part-time job, too. Money was tight for a while, but we managed.

“I couldn’t really begin my transition at first, but just growing out my hair and being called by my name helped a lot. I worked hard and I studied hard because I wanted to be able to go to college and get a good job. When I took the SAT I got a near-perfect score.” Clarke could hear the pride in her girlfriend’s voice and she pressed a kiss to Lexa’s forehead. “Anya congratulated me by giving me a pair of breasts I could wear like a bra. I absolutely _loved_ them. They’re still hanging in the back of my closet; I’ll have to show you some time.” Lexa smiled at the memory. “Anya also revealed that she’d saved up enough money for me to go ‘girl shopping.’ I got a whole new wardrobe full of the clothes I’d always wanted. The next day I wore my boobs, a blouse, and a skirt, and when I looked in the mirror, I finally started to see _me._ I practically skipped to work, I was so happy. My co-workers were a little confused, at first, but accepted me almost immediately. I was so lucky to be working with them.

“I passed my GED with flying colours and my SAT score got me a scholarship to study at Polis with Anya. She dragged me to the Polis LGBT Alliance meeting my first week of school. There were two other trans girls in the group, both of them seniors. I was so thrilled to meet people like me and whenever I was feeling depressed or dysphoric, I talked to them – as well as Anya, of course. They two girls were on the women’s soccer team and encouraged me to join. I did, and all my teammates accepted me for who I was.”

Lexa smiled as she thought back to college, and when she spoke again, her tone was wistful. “Polis University was like the Nirvana of safe spaces. Everybody was out, everybody was proud, and nobody ever had a homophobic or transphobic word to say about anyone. It was perfect.”

Lexa’s voice trailed off, and Clarke knew the next part of the story wasn’t going to be happy. “But there was still transphobia, wasn’t there?” the younger woman murmured, stroking Lexa’s hair.

“There was still transphobia,” Lexa confirmed. “I kept my job at the bookstore while I was in college. I was always pretty feminine, but even with my hair and clothes and fake boobs it was obvious I was trans if you looked close enough. And a lot of customers looked pretty close.” The older woman shuddered and Clarke held her tighter. “The looks I got from people were _horrible_ ,” Lexa said. “They looked at me the way I used to look at myself in the mirror, but so much worse. They would stare at me as if I were a monster and call me a ‘thing’ and whisper to each other that I was unnatural. I used to beg my boss to let me work in the back room the whole time so people wouldn’t see me.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Clarke murmured, blinking back tears as she kissed Lexa’s forehead.

“It would have destroyed me if it weren’t for my co-workers,” Lexa admitted. “Every time a customer pulled some form of transphobic bullshit, my co-workers would stand up for me and put them in their place. They would call those assholes out and boot them from the store before hugging me and telling me not to listen to them ‘cause I was a beautiful woman. If my co-workers had just let it slide instead and not done anything…I don’t like to think about where I might have been if that’d been the case.”

Lexa shook herself from the melancholy. “Anyway, I made it through work and college and graduated with a major in English and a minor in media studies. My professors liked me enough that they sent a letter of recommendation to Trikru Publishing and within six months of leaving college I had a job as an editorial assistant. Better yet, the health insurance plan covers HRT, so I was able to finish my transition.

“Anya gave me the shots at first. I couldn’t stand the thought of willingly stabbing myself with a needle, so I let her do it and just put up with her teasingly calling me a baby. When I finally started noticing obvious changes I actually cried. No more face shaving and no more fake boobs ‘cause now I had my own.

“That was a few years ago. Now I’m an editor, a 36B, and sitting here with you.” Lexa smiled up at her girlfriend and Clarke leaned down to kiss her.

“Thank you for telling me,” Clarke murmured against Lexa’s lips. She eventually pulled away and returned to snuggling with her girlfriend. “What happened to the two women in your LGBT group? Do you still talk to them?”

“They finished transitioning, too. One’s non-op and one’s post-op.” When Clarke frowned in confusion, Lexa explained, “One of them decided not to get the gender reassignment surgery and one of them did.”

Clarke nodded thoughtfully. “Did you ever think about getting the surgery?”

“I considered it,” Lexa replied with a shrug. “Now that I’ve transitioned I’m not nearly as dysphoric as I used to be. Sometimes the dysphoria comes back if I’m feeling depressed in general or if something triggers it, but normally it doesn’t affect me too badly. And you know what my triggers are and how to avoid them. Depending on how the HRT continues to affect me I may reconsider, but for now, I honestly don’t mind having a penis. It makes peeing easier, for sure.”

Clarke smacked her girlfriend’s arm in exasperation. “ _Seriously_ , Lexa?”

“Hey, I’m not the only one who thinks that way,” Lexa defended with a grin. “And have I ever left the toilet seat up? Ever? Hm?”

“No, you haven’t,” Clarke relented. She observed her girlfriend for a moment before attacking her ribs with tickles. Lexa shrieked with laughter and tried to squirm away, but Clarke held her tight until they were both shaking with giggles. When they finally managed to calm down, they returned to snuggling, both feeling a little lighter than they had been.

“So Anya was there for you the whole time?” Clarke murmured, bringing the conversation back around.

Lexa nodded. “Every minute of every day.” She lifted her head from Clarke’s shoulder so she could look her girlfriend in the eye. “I should warn you, she can be rather…protective. She…nevermind,” the older woman trailed off, all traces of levity gone.

Clarke stroked her girlfriend’s cheek. “You can tell me, babe, it’s all right. Or not, if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, I might as well tell you.” Lexa sighed. “I had a girlfriend about a year ago. Her name was Costia. I loved her, she loved me, and all was right with the world, so I thought.” The older woman shifted in Clarke’s lap so she could hold the younger woman tighter. “I didn’t tell her I was trans because I thought it didn’t matter – that it _shouldn’t_ matter, because I’m a woman no matter what. But then one day things were getting heated and she felt me get hard and definitely did not react as well as you did. She said – ”

“No, baby, don’t repeat it. Don’t bring it back,” Clarke urged, pressing kisses to Lexa’s cheeks. “Just tell me what happened after.”

Lexa obliged. “Thanks to Costia, my dysphoria and the depression that comes with it came back worse than it had in _years_. I called Anya, sobbing, and she got here within five minutes, just to hold me. She reminded me that I was still a beautiful woman no matter what – and I quote – ‘some transphobic asswipe’ called me. Anya made me a cup of tea, bundled me up on the couch, and then borrowed my phone so she could get Costia’s number from it. I dunno what my sister said when she called her, but I got a text from Costia about a day later full of apologies and pleas for forgiveness. Anya must’ve scared her pretty damn good, ‘cause Costia was saying things like, ‘I’ll do anything if you’ll just make your sister stop.’”

“What did you say?” Clarke asked.

“I told her that her apology was not accepted, I was breaking up with her, and she’d better run pretty damn fast if she wanted to escape my sister’s wrath.”

Clarke chuckled and kissed Lexa’s forehead. “Good. If you ever see Costia on the street, point her out to me so I can beat her up, ‘k?”

Lexa smiled and nuzzled her girlfriend’s neck. “’K. Pretty sure Anya hid the body, though.”

“Anya sounds amazing,” Clarke said. “I’m so glad she was there for you during your transition. Even after all you’ve told me, I can’t even begin to imagine how tough it must’ve been.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Lexa agreed. “But it was all worth it in the end. I can’t imagine what life would be like if I _hadn’t_ transitioned. I wouldn’t have you, for starters.” She tried to keep her voice light but failed.

Clarke gently took Lexa’s face in her hands and met her girlfriend’s gaze. “Lexa, I would’ve fallen in love with you no matter what gender you are.”

Lexa looked at her with wary hope. “I thought you were into girls?”

Clarke giggled and kissed Lexa on the nose. “I’m bi, you goof. And even if I weren’t, love is love is love.”

Lexa beamed at Clarke and pulled her into a passionate kiss. “I love you _so_ much,” she murmured against her lips.

“I love you, too, Lexa,” Clarke smiled. “And I would love to meet your sister.”

* * * 

Clarke was helping Lexa put the finishing touches on dinner when the doorbell rang. A wide grin spread across Lexa’s face and she ran to the front door, opening it to reveal her sister. “Hey, Lex!” Anya greeted, pulling Lexa into a hug.

“Hey!” Lexa hugged her back. “Come and meet my girlfriend!”

Anya rolled her eyes as she let Lexa drag her into the kitchen. “Figures that’s the first thing you’d do. No, ‘hi, Anya, how are you? How’s life?’ No, just immediately, ‘meet my girlfriend.’”

Even Clarke laughed at this as Anya was pulled into view. “Hi, I’m Clarke,” the younger woman introduced herself, extending her hand.

“Anya, nice to meet you,” Anya replied, shaking Clarke’s hand.

“Ok, go make yourself useful and set the table,” Lexa ordered her sister.

“Aye-aye, Commander,” Anya saluted, opening the cupboards to grab the plates.

“Commander?” Clarke frowned at her girlfriend.

Lexa rolled her eyes even as she blushed. “I was pretty hardcore on the soccer field and they made me team captain in my junior and senior year. My teammates started jokingly calling me ‘Commander Lexa,’ and it stuck.”

“That’s cute,” Clarke grinned, leaning over and pecking Lexa on the cheek. Then she purred in her ear, “So what’ll happen if _I_ start calling you Commander?”

 _“Clarke!”_ Lexa gasped, knowing _exactly_ what her girlfriend was suggesting.

“I don’t even wanna know,” Anya called back to them as she laid out the silverware. “So what’s for dinner?”

“Stuffed chicken wrapped in bacon with pasta salad on the side,” Clarke replied. “Lex made the chicken; I made the salad.”

“Nice,” Anya grinned. “Has Lexa made the chicken for you before? It’s her specialty.”

“No, she hasn’t, which is why I’m looking forward to it.” Clarke kissed her girlfriend on the cheek again and Lexa giggled.

“You two are sickeningly sweet,” Anya commented as she rolled her eyes. “Lex, you didn’t tell me she was so smooth.”

“Shut up,” Lexa muttered, blushing as she brought the chicken to the table while Clarke brought the salad. Sitting down, the three women made sure everyone’s plates were full before they dug in together.

“Oh my _God_ , this is _spectacular_ ,” Clarke groaned around a mouthful of chicken.

“Told you,” Anya chuckled. “You did a fine job on the pasta salad, too. It’s awesome.”

“Thanks!” Clarke grinned. They ate in silence for a moment before the younger woman asked, “So, Anya, got any embarrassing stories about Lexa to share?”

“ _No_ , she does _not_ ,” Lexa intervened, shooting both her sister and her girlfriend warning looks.

“I dunno, Lex, I can think of a few good ones,” Anya smirked.

“Noooooo,” the younger sister protested in a whine.

“Tell you what: for every embarrassing story Anya tells about you, I’ll tell you one about me,” Clarke offered. “Deal?”

Lexa sighed. “I suppose,” she resigned.

“Excellent!” Anya rubbed her hands together. “So there was this one time Lex had a soccer game against Polis’s biggest rival, Azgeda. That game was _tense_. It was getting to be more like rugby than soccer with all the tackles and body checks going on. Anyway, Lexa’s got the ball and she’s tearing up the field and this bitch comes out of nowhere – what was her name?”

“Ontari,” Lexa mumbled, hiding her face in her palm.

“Yeah, Ontari. Anyway, she’s about to kick the ball out from under Lexa’s feet, but Lex sees what she’s about to do and kicks the ball to a teammate. But Ontari still aimed her own kick and it misses the ball and becomes the most painful looking nut shot I have ever seen.”

Clarke clapped her hands over her mouth as she let out a long “ooh,” of sympathy, looking over to her girlfriend with pity and a hint of amusement.

“Everyone on the team ran to see if I was ok,” Lexa remembered. “They all knew I was trans, but the referee didn’t. He was slightly confused when I needed to sit out for about twenty minutes, though it was more curling up in a ball than sitting.”

“Oh my God, poor baby,” Clarke said, rubbing her girlfriend’s back. “Were you ok afterwards?”

“It hurt for a good few hours, but we won the game ten to one. The Polis team got pretty vengeful after that.”

“Tell me Ontari left the field with an injury,” Clarke hoped.

Lexa smirked. “Funnily enough, she did: an ‘accidental’ elbow to the face. She had a nice black eye once all that was over.” She turned her gaze to Clarke. “Ok, your turn. Start talking.”

Clarke smiled wistfully and sighed. “Well, I’ve always been an artist. Haven’t sold any of my paintings yet, but I’ll get there. Anyway, when I was four years old, my mom got me a paint set, but she said I could only use it while she was supervising. Well, one day when she was in her office working on a medical report, I decided that the wallpaper in my room was too white. I cleverly balanced a chair and a few boxes so I could get the paint set down from the top of the fridge. I took it to my room and painted a beautiful mural on my bedroom wall. It had trees and animals and my house and my family. I got paint all over myself _and_ my rug _and_ my quilt, let alone the wall. Mom found me just as I finished the mural. She was more exasperated than upset, since it was washable paint. Well, _almost_ washable: it came off me, the rug, and my quilt, but not the wall, no matter how hard Mom tried. When Dad came home and saw it he actually fell over laughing. To this day, my first real painting remains faded on my wall, signed and dated in ‘washable’ paint.”

“Oh my God,” Lexa cackled. “You have _got_ to take me to your house and show me that.”

“I have a picture for when I tell people this story,” Clarke admitted, pulling out her phone. She scrolled through the gallery until she reached the picture before handing the device over to the sisters.

“Wow,” Anya raised her eyebrows. “You were _four_ when you painted that?” When Clarke nodded, the older woman continued, “That’s really good. I’m impressed.”

Clarke blushed. “Thanks. My newer stuff is much better, I promise.”

“She painted a picture of me,” Lexa cut in with a smug smirk. She flicked through the gallery until she got to the snapshot of the painting and showed it to Anya.

The older sister’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “Holy _shit_!” The painting was of Lexa reclining on her couch and reading a book. Every angle and curve was captured in intricate detail and Lexa shone in the painted illusion of the afternoon sun. What Anya noticed most about the painting was how content her sister looked, as if everything was right with the world. Anya looked up at Clarke with a new respect. “Have you considered submitting your work to a gallery?”

Clarke blushed deeper and shrugged. “Tried a few times, got rejected. I figure I’ll refine my technique a little more before trying again.”

“I think it’s pretty damn refined,” Anya said as she handed back Clarke’s phone.

The younger woman beamed. “Thanks.”

“Alright, time for another one about Lexa,” Anya grinned almost evilly.

“Why can’t I tell an embarrassing story about _you_?” Lexa whined.

“Because there aren’t many – that you know of, at least – and the ones you do know of aren’t very interesting,” Anya waved her off before turning to Clarke. “So, like all younger siblings, Lexa loved playing with all of _my_ toys when she was little – not hers, _mine_.”

“You had _dolls_ ; I didn’t!” Lexa protested.

“Yeah, yeah,” Anya dismissed her. “So for my eighth birthday our mom got me this kids’ electronics kit. It was this little board with different wire-connecter-things that were all numbered. If you connected the wires to the different connectors in certain places you could make all sorts of different electronic whatsits – one of which was a burglar alarm.

“So I rigged up the burglar alarm and attached it to my toy box. The alarm worked with two wires: when the ends were connected, the alarm was quiet, but it went off it you separated the wires. So I set it up so that the wires were connected when the lid of my toy box was closed. I hid the electronics board and left the box in its usual spot.

“I came home from school one day and heard a high, long tone coming from my room. I went in and saw that the lid of the toy box was ajar and the alarm was going off. I immediately dragged Mom into the room and showed her the obvious evidence of Lexa’s trespassing. She was _really_ annoyed that I’d set up the alarm but we went to Lexa’s room anyway where we found her hiding under the bed, terrified. Mom scolded her gently and said she wasn’t allowed into my room, but the burglar alarm was more than enough to scare her into never going near there again. Mom deeply regretted buying me the electronics kit after that.”

By the time Anya reached the end of her story, Clarke was giggling uncontrollably behind her hands while Lexa had her face buried in her arms as she groaned her embarrassment. “Aw, c’mon, Lex, you gotta appreciate the cleverness years later,” Clarke managed through her laughter.

“No, I don’t,” was Lexa’s petulant reply. “It’s your go.”

It was Clarke’s turn for an evil grin. “All right, so this is less embarrassing for me than it is the other person involved, but it’s still a good story. I was always very forward in high school. When I was interested in someone, I never waited for them to say something; I always asked first. So I was interested in this boy who was on the football team – that should’ve been the first sign _not_ to pursue him – and I asked him to prom. I probably shouldn’t have done it in the middle of the hallway in front of all his friends and the rest of the football team because he laughed in my face, his friends and the team laughed in my face, and I had to deal with all sorts of taunts and comments for a good while.

“A few weeks afterwards the guy started shamelessly flirting with the girl who had the locker next to him. I had the suspicion he wanted to invite her to prom and I wanted to get some sort of revenge on him. My friend Raven came up with the idea. We bought a box of condoms and slipped them individually through the vent of his locker. The next day, when he was chatting up the girl and trying to impress her, he opened his locker and all the condoms fell out. The look of disgust on the girl’s face was absolutely _priceless_. She yelled at him loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear – accused him of wanting to use her for sex. It didn’t take long for the story to get around, and that boy went to the prom alone.” Clarke leaned back in her chair and folded her arms, a smug smirk on her face.

Lexa was giggling, “Well played!” she congratulated. She held out her hand for a high five, which Clarke returned.

“Not bad,” Anya agreed. But unlike Lexa, she seemed less amused and more guarded.

* * * 

“ _You_ did the cooking, Lexa. _I’ll_ do the dishes,” Clarke insisted.

“You made the pasta salad!” the older woman protested.

“That was hardly a chore. You did the most work so you get a break. Now shoo.”

“Fine,” Lexa rolled her eyes. She pecked her girlfriend on the cheek. “I have to use the bathroom anyway.”

“Don’t fall in,” Anya teased, her tone of voice suggesting that this was something she said to her sister often. Lexa confirmed this by flipping her off as she walked away.

Once Lexa had left, Anya turned to Clarke, no longer friendly. The artist was startled by the deadly look on the older woman’s face. “Listen and listen well,” Anya hissed. “If you’re just dating Lexa ‘cause you think she’s a novelty, I will _end_ you. Clearly you have an interest in men if your high school story is anything to go by, so it’s not a stretch to think you’re just curious about dating a girl with a dick. But if that’s all you’re dating her for, you are _dead_. I have watched her go through too much bullshit to let you step in and tear her down. She may talk a good game, but my sister has been through hell, and I won’t let you ruin her life so you can live out your girl penis fantasies.”

Anya had barely finished her sentence when Clarke’s palm connected on her cheek with a loud slap. It was the older woman’s turn to be startled by the look of outright fury on the artist’s face. “How…fucking… _dare_ you?!” Clarke growled. Lexa may have warned Clarke about Anya, but she’d failed to warn Anya about Clarke. “How the fuck can you even _think_ that? Yes, I may have some interest in men, but that’s because I’m _bi_ – that _is_ a thing, you know. And despite whatever the fuck you may think, I _love_ Lexa with everything I am. I know _exactly_ what she’s been through because she’s _told_ me. And whatever the fuck she may have to go through in the future, I _will_ be there for her every step of the way whether you like it or not. I don’t give a shit how much of a problem you have about me or if you don’t believe me or if you think I’m not good enough for Lexa. That is _her_ decision to make, not yours. So you can fuck right off with your threats because I will protect Lexa from anything and everything, even if it means protecting her from _you_.”

There was tense silence in the kitchen as they stared each other down. Lexa chose that moment to return from the bathroom and she observed the standoff with wary confusion. “Um, is everything all right?”

Anya glanced at her sister. “I like her, Lex. You can keep her.”

Rather than respond with amusement, Lexa’s expression darkened. “What did you say to her?” she demanded as she stalked forward.

Clarke held her arm out to stop her. “Whoa, babe, it’s ok. I already slapped her after she gave me her version of The Speech.” Lexa still didn’t look mollified.

Anya held up her hands in surrender. “I was just making sure she didn’t turn out like – ”

“Costia?” Lexa and Clarke finished for her. When Anya gaped at the artist, Clarke continued, “Yeah, I know about Costia. ‘Cause Lexa and I actually _talk_ about things like two people in a _healthy relationship_.”

“Ok, ok, I get it, I’m sorry. I am.” Anya looked back and forth between the two women, wondering which one would kill her first.

Lexa took a deep breath. “There is only one way to settle this.”

Clarke gave her a sidelong glance. “Which is?”

“Chocolate ice cream.”

Anya and Clarke looked at each other and then back at Lexa. “Your peace terms are acceptable.”

* * *

“Be careful driving home, ok babe?” Lexa told her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around Clarke’s neck.

“I will,” Clarke replied, her hands on Lexa’s waist. She leaned forward to share a long, tender kiss with her girlfriend. “Call me tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Another kiss. “Love you, Clarke.”

“Love you, too, Lexa.” Yet another kiss. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The two reluctantly broke apart and waved goodbye. Lexa shut the door behind Clarke and rounded on her sister, no longer smiling. “You attacked my girlfriend.”

Anya rolled her eyes. “Of _course_ I attacked your girlfriend! I’m your older sister; it’s my job! And she _did_ retaliate, remember.”

“Good,” Lexa snapped, dropping down on the couch and folding her arms. Anya sat in the chair opposite and the siblings had a brief staring contest. “Well?” Lexa finally prompted.

“I already told you; you can keep her,” Anya replied. She paused and regarded her sister carefully. “Does she make you happy?”

Lexa’s eyes became distant as she thought about her girlfriend, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I can’t remember the last time I was this happy. She accepts me for who I am – she _loves_ me for who I am. She makes me feel _free_ , and that’s something I haven’t felt in a long time. Just last week I was feeling dysphoric thanks to some transphobic assholes and she held me and told me everything she loved about me and made it go away. Apart from you, she’s the only other person I can be _me_ with, and I love her so, so much. I dunno how I got so lucky as to have her in my life, but I’m never letting her go.”

When Lexa focused her gaze on Anya again, her sister had an understanding, loving smile on her face. “I’m happy for you, Lex. I was watching the two of you together and I could see how happy you are with her. I’m glad you found her.”

Lexa smiled back, blinking away her tears. “Thanks, Anya.”

“You’re welcome, Lexa.” Anya’s own smile became a smirk. “So, is the sex good?”

_“Anya!”_

**Author's Note:**

> Story Specifics  
> \- Leaving the bedroom window unlocked: Yes, I've broken into my own house before.  
> \- Dropping out of high school: I am a proud high school drop out currently working on my masters degree. Never be afraid to march to your own drum.  
> \- Wearable breasts: I read about them in the first article I ever read about transgender people. Even then I remember wondering what the big deal was.  
> \- Polis U Nirvana: Homophobia and transphobia are almost nonexistent where I currently go to school. Our LGBT society is one of the biggest societies at the college. It's paradise.  
> \- Comment about peeing: [Actual reddit comment thread.](https://www.reddit.com/r/MtF/comments/4nx7wc/just_for_fun_prenonop_peeing/d47t0nb)  
> \- Love is love is love: _Ste yuj_ , everyone.  
> \- Wall mural: When I was a kid I had wallpaper I could draw on with washable marker. Genuinely considering it when I get a place of my own.  
> \- Burglar alarm story: True story.  
> 


End file.
